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Pompeia

by Eugenia Salza Prina Ricotti

Pompeia
Cornelia, Caesar’s first wife, was now dead and passed to history. Caesar was a widower but not for a long time. People didn’t remain unmarried for a long time in ancient Rome. This time in the 67 B.C. he married a girl, Pompeia, the daughter of the plebeian but very rich family of the Pompei Rufi. The father of the bride had married Cornelia the daughter of Silla, Caesar’s great enemy, and now the 35 year politician married his adversary’s grand child. Probably it was a well calculated move that tied him to his ancient enemies. It was however a well known fact that in the Iulian family the marriages were always politically inspired.
Probably Pompeia was beautiful, what was certain that she also was corrupt. It was certainly a great change from the quiet and honest Cornelia, but in those time many of the young brides had very free and lascivious customs, and reading these verses of Horace we can very well imagine how:
“The young virgin enjoys to learn the Ionic dances and to practice sexy attitudes, thus from her tender age she prepares herself to incestuous loves. While at her husband’s dinner she has already set her eyes on the young swains and she doesn’t even chose the man to whom in the shadows she will dole out hasty pleasures. Before her consenting husband she gets up at a simple wink invited now by a peddler, now by the captain of a Spanish ship who will lavishly pay for her shame.
Of course this description might be exaggerated, but it make also evident that at those time faithfulness was no more considered a firm stand in a marriage and that the young Roman brides were not averse to extramarital affairs.
What we know about what happened at the end of the republic is really incredible. For instance there were the malicious rumors about what was done by the daughter of Silla, Fausta wife of Milo, a young political boss of the times. The vertue of this young lady couldn’t be so adamant if one day Milo, coming back home, found her enlaced in a tight embrace with the then very young Sallustius Crispus. Without losing a moment Milo, who was well known for being violent and quick to use his fists, put all his muscles at work and gave to the future historian a very good hiding. But he did not stop at this. To heal his wound he needed another kind of balm: a golden one. Sallustius was rich, but when, bruised and aching, he left Milo’s house he was not as rich as before, and Milo had cashed an extremely round sum. But it seems that this put everything in order and Milo kept the secret. He must have liked Fausta a lot because he didn’t repudiate her, but it is also probable that with a good dose of slaps and, maybe, the help of a strong flail Milo made clear to Fausta how a wife should behave.
Pompeia belonged to the same era and the same society of Fausta and their customs were the same. When Caesar married her he was 35 year old and she was 21, fourteen years of difference, but for some time everything went well and five years passed by. Nothing happened or, at least, nothing emerged. Then came the 62 B.C. The echoes of Catilina’s plot had not entirely subsided and Caesar had to be careful for he had many enemies. Thus Pompeia had much time for herself. and unfortunately she was not the kind of woman who would like to spend her time at the loom or at the spin. So instead to prepare new togas for her husband she let her eyes rove around to find some diversions with which she could pleasantly fill her idling moments. Her eyes fell on Clodius, her brother close friend, a young but completely corrupt descendant of one of Rome’s noblest family. Clodius Pulcher (beautiful) was his surname and it confirmed his beauty. He was really so.
Cicero, who didn’t like him, had surnamed him the “Pulchellus”, a diminutive of “pulcher” practically untranslatable but quite scornful. Clodius was a real rogue who collected all sorts of mischief. For what Cicero said, he had even committed incest with all his three sisters, and at least with one of them, the extremely beautiful and lascivious Clodia, something could really have happened.
This was a fact that Cicero always brought up when he quarreled with the young man and this he always repeated every time he was speaking with his sister Clodia. Every time the orator dug up the question he said “lets us look to your youngest brother, a perfect gentleman. I don’t know for what weakness he is liable to nightly fears, so he comes and sleeps with you” And also, always speaking to Clodia, he feigned to be mixed up saying “ If you had not quarreled with you husband. Sorry, I wanted to say your brother. I don’t know why on this I always get mixed up”
Clodius liked the beautiful ladies he met and unfortunately it seems that he also liked his sisters. However for what we know he was adored by all the women. Now he was back in Rome, handsome, young and very, cheeky. Pompeia was impressed. After their first meetings the two became persuaded that they were done the one for the other and they began to excogitate how it was possible to meet in private and so satisfy their desires.
At those times this was not easy. They couldn’t go to an hotel as today is commonly done. At those times there were no hotels, only inns of ill repute frequented by carters and porters and here the arrival of a matron of high standing would certainly arouse some fuss. Beside anything else, also if Roman ladies could get out of their home every time they wanted, they couldn’t go around alone. As all important people they were carried in sedan chairs brought by athletic negro slaves and they had always an escort of handmaids and servants. It is evident that this kind of train could not pass unspotted, and for the same reason the lady could not go to her lover’s home.
At hose times all adulteries took place in the lady’s house. There was always some trusted hand maids or some well paid watchman who could introduce the swain in their mistress’ rooms and, if the husband was out of town for some important task or for some far away office, the lovers had all the time they wanted and the sureness to get away with it. But this was not the case of Pompeia and Clodius: Caesar was in Rome and he was certainly not a dupe.
The two young people could not ignore the dangers they were taking in this adventure. What happened to the adulterers caught out was certainly not pleasant and we find it in Horace’s when he advises the young golden lions of Rome to keep away from the matrons and to dedicate themselves to the easier and surer household’s loves:
“...........It is worthwhile for you who wish that adulterers didn’t escape their punishment to hear how many ills menace them from every sides, and how their pleasures, obtained with difficulty and rarely enjoyed, will be for them reason of many pains and could even put them in grave dangers. One of these lovers falls from the roof, another one is flailed to death, a third one, while fleeing away, runs in a gang of robbers; a fourth to save his own life is obliged to give away all his fortune; over another the stablemen piss, and, to end all these misadventures, there is the one to whom the avenger iron cut the testicles and the membrum virilis. The law allows it, say all the jurists. Only Galba denies it.........”.
And as the poet stops here we will never know why Galba defended so much the adulterers’ virility.
Knowing all these dangers the two would be lovers got the idea to profit of the Dea Bona’s festival. This was a religious ceremony reserved only to women and, as his presence would constitute a terrible sacrilege, no man had to be under the roof where the rite was celebrated. Of course for anyone who did not have this religious prejudices the ceremony would offer a splendid occasion to sneak into the house. The husband would not be there; then no surprises, no flail, no swords or daggers. What better occasion could anyone find?
Pompeia and Clodius were certainly not the only one who had thought about it. Certainly the advantages of the thing could not have escaped to other adulterine couples and the intrusion of Clodius in a house in which the festival of the Dea Bona was celebrated was not the first. Surely it was not the last.
However when the time of the goddess’ festival was nearing, everything was ready and two future lovers had well organized everything. Clodius would dress himself as a girl musician and in such disguise he would certainly escape recognition. In the house there would have been a great crowd with many matrons who came with all their handmaids and not everyone knew the others. A handsome young boy covered by veils would not be noted, and Plutarch assured that at these time Clodius was still beardless, but it would be very strange if at 29 years he could really be so. Probably he trusted his hope on a good layer of “cerussa” and some artistic make up.
Besides everything else the ceremony would be held at Caesar’ house and the organizer of the feast that lasted all night would have been dear Pompeia. The fixed day came and in the morning all men, included male children, domestic animals and birds in their cages, left the house. Then, when the feast was at its height, Clodius, dressed as a female musician, got there. The doors had been left open by Pompeia and her handmaid, Carina, was waiting for him. Immediately after his arrival she settled the young man in a room and told him to wait while she was going to fetch Pompeia, but for some foolish and imprudent reasons Clodius got out of his hiding. Why? Had he been taken by a violent impulse to find his lady? Or wanted he to see the rites? Or wished he just to profane a religion that he had always spurned? Maybe he did it for all these reasons put together. Certain in the dangerous plot that the two young people had concocted this was the greatest madness.
It was deep night when Clodius decided to get out of the room. The feeble light of torches and oil lamps left ample unlit areas in which the young man, who was going around without having any idea of where he had to go, tried to confuse himself. At this moment one of the Aurelia handmaids stopped him and asked Clodius, whom she believed to be a woman, to entertain them with some music. The young man, who certainly was not a musician, tried to get away from her, but the girl, irritated by what she thought was sheer insolence, pulled this strange person in the light and seeing that this girl was someone she didn’t know, she asked whom she was and from where she came. Clodius, imprudent, spoke and, as the raven who disguised himself as a dove, when he opened his mouth he was immediately recognized as a man.
Aurelia handmaid, distraught by the discovery, ran in the room where all the matrons were reunited and the mysteries were celebrated. She screamed that a man had penetrated the house and that the goddess’ rites had been profaned. Everybody was upset, but Aurelia, the widowed mother of Caesar, who lived with him and kept a good guard to his honor, held her calm. She had never trusted her flirty an stupid daughter in law and probably had always suspected that sooner or later such a thing could happen. So she was prepared for it.
Immediately she ordered to close all the doors so that the culprit could be caught red handed and, after having hidden the holy objects of the goddess’ cult, she started the search. Her handmaids preceded her lighting with torches all dark corners of the house and so one by one they inspected the rooms. Clodius was at last found crouched near the bed of Carina, the slave who had introduced him. He was clearly recognized and afterward denounced.
After the discovery of the sacrilege Aurelia tried to resume the goddess’ rites but all the participants, wives of the more important men of Rome, could hardly wait to tell everything to their husbands. Thus, as soon as the Great Vestal completed the ceremony, they ran back home and told them what had happened. The morning after all Rome knew it.
Caesar immediately repudiated Pompeia and thus his second wife left hurriedly the scene.

Bibliography
Scientific divulgation
E. SALZA PRINA RICOTTI, L'amore a Roma in Archeo, VII, 10 (92) October 1992, pp. 54-99

Books
E. SALZA PRINA RICOTTI - Amori ed amanti tra la repubblica ed il principato, Editore. L’Erma di Bretschneider, Roma, 1992